The Cold War

In anticipation of the big Memorial Day weekend in the Hamptons, which I was apparently going off to single as the original Bridget Jones, I made an appointment for a spray tan. Unfortunately, the sky opened up right as I exited the salon, and as I ran down 1st avenue frantically searching for a cab, terrorizing small children with my bra-less, flopping boobs, the rain destroyed my "tan." I woke up the next morning with spotted, streaky ankles and feet. And my face! I looked like I had tear marks etched into my cheeks. I did my best to conceal the mess with makeup and ran out the door to catch the train.

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When I got to the share house Friday afternoon, I was pleasantly surprised to find that it wasn't a total shithole. There were two bedrooms upstairs, with one bedroom downstairs, plus a pull out couch in the living room. And! I was lucky enough to be assigned to the master bedroom. Yes, I had to share a bed with Kate and her friend Taylor, but I could look past that because there was a bathroom connected to the room. When you live in an oddly shaped shoebox, that seems like the most luxurious thing ever. Richard and his two friends, Matt and Brendan, were relegated to the other upstairs room. Kate's two friends, Mara and Anastasia, took the downstairs bedroom.

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It continued to rain Friday night, and the temperature dropped to 40-something degrees. Why you gotta play me like that, summer? We agreed to stay in, cook, drink and get to know each other better, which we decided to do by playing Never Have I Ever like a bunch of high school sophomores drinking beer for the first time. I was happy for any distraction to keep my mind off Justin. I had barely slept the night before—just tossing and turning and thinking about everything, and in a moment of weakness at 2 a.m. I sent Justin a text that just said, "Really?" Of course he didn't respond. Ugh, I know. Not my finest.

I must have been kind of out of it during the game, because after it had run its course Richard asked me how I was holding up. I was pretty tipsy at that point and the word vomit just came out.

"I think I was so angry at first that Justin kept blowing me off that it masked the fact that I'm really hurt." I rolled my beer bottle around in my hands. "I can't believe he's just done. Like that. Doesn't want to talk to me at all."

"I'm sure you guys will talk eventually," Richard offered.

I shook my head. "I don't think so." I told him about the box outside my door and the text I sent him the night before .

Richard smacked his palm against his forehead. "Josie!"

"I know."

"He probably thought you were out and drunk if you did it at 2 a.m."

"And sluttin' it up," I said.

"This guy is such a douchebag," Richard said. "Just move on."

"It's been 48 hours!"

Someone cranked up the music and I watched as a dance party formed around us in the living room. Richard put down his beer and stood, holding out his hand.

"Josie, no sad sacks allowed in this house. Let's dance it out."

I couldn't help but laugh. I took Richard's hand and joined the group.

The next morning I woke up to the dreariest, greyest Saturday in the history of Memorial Day weekends. I checked my phone and my weather app informed me it was 46 degrees.

Boardy Barn is this shitshow of an outdoor bar where people usually get so hammered they dump pitchers of beer on each other at the end of the night.

"It's freezing!"

"Don't care. We didn't come out here to sit in this house all day."

"Where's Taylor?" I asked.

Kate grinned. "In Brendan's bed."

"Oh, lawd."

"I know."

Everyone rallied and an hour later, the whole group squeezed into a minivan cab. We were dressed like we were going skiing—fleeces, scarves, socks, and boots. At least no one could see my grody orange and white feet.

Despite the fact that it was freezing out, Boardy Barn was packed to the gills. We were able to find a table, which almost never happens, so Richard and I volunteered to get drinks for everyone so we wouldn't lose our spot.

We had just squeezed our way to the front of the bar when I heard someone call my name. I turned around and immediately wished I hadn't. It was Becca. She was wearing a large, hot pink "bachelorette" sash.

"Oh my god, hi!" she squealed. She pointed towards her sash, as if it wasn't the first thing I noticed. "This is my bachelorette party!" She enveloped me in a big, drunken hug. Either she really, really liked me, or she had no idea that Justin and I had broken up. I had a feeling it was the latter, and the fact that I was standing there with Richard? I mean, just kill me.

"What are you doing here?" she asked when she pulled away.

"Oh, I'm doing a share house this summer."

"So fun!" she said. "Is my brother here?"

"Um, no. I'm not doing it with him."

"Oh. Is it like you and Ashley and Nina?"

"No," I said, desperately wishing I could have answered "yes." "Some people from work."

Becca noticed Richard at my side then. She gave him an odd look before sticking out her hand. "Hi, I'm Becca. Josie's boyfriend's sister."

Richard's lips twitched up into the tiniest of smirks at that. "Nice to meet you." He shook her hand.

"Are you in the share house too?" Becca asked. I could practically see the wheels turning in her head, trying to figure out who the hell this cute guy standing next to her brother's girlfriend was.

"I am," Richard said.

Before Becca could dig any deeper, I said, "Richard, do you mind giving Becca and I second alone?"

"Sure," Richard said. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," Becca said, flatly.

Once we were alone, I took a deep breath. "Becca, this is, uh, really awkward. But Justin and I broke up."

Becca's eyes grew wide. "What? When?!"

"It just happened," I said. "A few days ago."

"Why?" she demanded. "What happened?"

"Things just kind of imploded," I said.

"How?" Becca's face was inches from mine.

"It's kind of a long story…." I trailed off, awkwardly.

"Oh, come on Josie. Stop being so vague. What happened? Who did it? Did you break up with him?"

I sighed. I really didn't want to get into this with her. But I was worried the big vein in her forehead would pop if I didn't tell her, so I recounted the last few days. When I got to the part where Richard and I ran into Justin outside my apartment door, and I realized Richard wasn't gay, Becca pulled out her phone.

"What are you doing?" I asked, panicked.

"I'm calling my dumbass brother," she said. "He needs to know that this was just a misunderstanding."

"Becca, please, don't. I think it's better if"—

"Justin?" Too late. Becca had him on the line. "Justin, this is Becca. I'm standing here with Josie. You two need to talk. I am handing the phone to her and if you hang up so help me god I will tell mom that you were the one to dent her BMW in high school."

Becca stuck her phone to my ear. I could not believe this was happening. "Uh, hi," I said.

Silence for a moment. Then Justin's voice, "Hi."

"So this is awkward." I laughed. Justin didn't.

"Where did you run into my sister?" he asked.

I told him about the share house. I left out the part that Richard was in it, obviously.

"Oh," he said.

"So, maybe we could…talk? When I'm back in the city?"

Becca nodded ferociously at me.

"Okay, fine."

"Okay. Um, Tuesday night? Do you want to come over?"

"Sure. That works," he said.

"Okay. I'll see you then."

"Bye," he said.

I hung up and handed the phone back to Becca.

"Thank god you ran into me!" Becca said. "My brother can be such an ass sometimes. Just explain to him what happened!"

I was thankful for the chance to clear the air with Justin. But I didn't have high hopes for how this was going to go. Clearly, Justin had no desire to talk to me, and was only doing it because his sister told him to. I'm also a little confused by the intensity of Becca's reaction. She and I didn't even get along when we first met, and now she is adamant that we work things out…what is that about? There is definitely a piece of the puzzle missing here.